The postman knocked at the door
A letter,"par avion'', lay carelessly flung on the floor
Instantly, i knew it was yours
For the handwriting are etched deep in the core.
It felt like yesterday
The lump exploded,
I thought i had kept it at bay
The letter felt moist
Had the ink not dried on the letter?
Or your tears had kept it wetter?
It smelt of you- divine
The fragrance replete in every line
It arrived in December
It still had the warmth of your breath
Love was alive and thriving
So was our faith
You said there was mist and fog
The weather was misery agog
You asked me for a bright sun
Assumed, here it was all fun
I sure shall send all the warmth
Of our love in a swath
Ensure the summer in rathe
Strewn with sunshine in your path
Yes, it's bright and sunny
But all is no fun, honey
Can i ask you for a repartee?
Even if there is no intention
(Your love not a contention)
Shall you scribble the fabrication?
I know the facts from the fiction
Yearning, a petite interjection
I shall discern the cloaked accession
From the obvious dissension.......................
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